comfort amidst lies
by of quills on parchment
Summary: For KHRFest; It's neither a desire sated nor a comfort soothing, not a game either wins and not a lie they can truly believe in. It's because they're not really strangers.


A/N: This.. didn't turn out the way I hoped it would. In other words, it's also an utter failure because I think I butchered something mid-way. Maa... oh well. Anyways, this... mostly turned out this way because it was greatly inspired by the song _It's a Beautiful Lie_ by 30 Seconds to Mars. Not exactly a favorite song, but it reminded me very much of what Reborn x Fon could be. ^.^

Prompt : mirrors; _"I robbed you blind, I left you crying, I played you for a fool."_

Disclaimer : If I owned this, ...this anime/manga's ratings would be so low because I would fail.  
Warnings : blood, gore, insanity, general weirdness and sex on the floor with dead bodies. Right.

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**comfort amidst lies**

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It is but his phantom that lingers: the sound of disappearances much like that of clouds gathering, the beginnings of a violent tempest covering the sky and its sun veiled in the brief caresses of the wind. It leaves behind a chill, a blood-curling spasm churning one's guts in a relentless grip. There is no escape, and it makes Reborn smile.

They dance together no differently from the way flickers of firecrackers do. It is with each move does the world ripple, making everything between them seem as if it just crumbles and fades away, because to be so near enough to touch, to hurt him is like feeling the ungraspable, the unattainable, the unconquerable so very close by.

It's taunting.

His sight follows the other's willowy form as Fon twirls, red silk and black hair trailing behind him in a blur amidst darkness, his own gaze never leaving Reborn's as they tangle, embroiled in this whirlwind of passion and adrenaline and blood lust. That polite smile is ever present on the Chinese Arcobaleno's face, but there is something different in those onyx eyes; it burns, brightly asunder with something as raw as actual emotion, and the likeness of it, he can see reflected, lurking so violently in his own eyes.

They're so very much the same.

He catches Fon's ankle in his grip, allowing himself a smirk before he casts it aside in order to advance, the smaller man chuckling that soft laughter as he turns, moving out of the way and making a slashing motion with his arm. The cut of the wind bears the sharpness of a knife, but Reborn still aims, and he fires.

The bullet whizzes past him, but it grazes his cheek. Blood trickles down from that stinging cut. Fon doesn't really care, and if anything, his smile widens just before he vanishes, fading like the passage of a moment until the instance he is now in front of the Italian man. He glides like an apparition, open palms striking like fists, but Reborn isn't deterred either, an amused smirk lifting his lips as he leans close, a hair's breadth away from Fon's little smile, the bright blackness of dark eyes mixing together and lingering as sand falling from one's palms held together.

Time is the sand slipping from their fingers, fading away into oblivion as wars are raged between the sun who desires its highest throne and the storm who longs for its darkness. It is only each other they see as they are trapped in this chaotic cage where the lines between _I won't lose_ and _I will win_, _I will break you_ and _you won't destroy me_ all crumble and blend together, decaying like the cadavers on the ground and beneath it.

Another spin, another block, one more strike and a stray bullet, and finally Reborn captures Fon in his arms, loosened silken hair cascading down the other's back like an inky black river, hugging his slender body. Reborn grins against the taut skin of the other's neck, his breathing uneven but his eyes alight.

He can feel Fon's smile even without seeing it. When has the other not smiled, even in this sordid play as he twirls the other in his arms? And therein lies the resonance of their harshly beating hearts and frantic pulses. It's an invitation, that little smile, so similar to his mocking smirk, and Reborn takes it as he leans down to lick away the blood trickling down his cheek. The storm tips his head back, the sun follows, and they meet in a playful kiss.

It's just beautiful.

Comfort lies amidst dark smirks and taunting kisses, of sharp blades that pierce skin and bullets lodged into limbs. It hides between silent gazes, knowing yet secretive with the allure of a serpent's seduction. What gnaws on their senses, overriding them with adrenaline are those grips bruising and nails scratching, the violation upon each other's body and the streaks of blood on tanned skin and pale flesh both as Reborn callously forces himself inside, and for that brief moment, Fon stills, stops, and falls silent.

There are nonexistent words uttered between them, insignificant things that are soon lost among silent moans and sharp hisses, and though the Chinese Arcobaleno smiles his little smile and invites the hitman to their death on this pyre, there are only those words, lingering like a thin thread between them amidst violent thrusts and harsh kisses, engulfed by a searing warmth, a violent fire crystallized by frost.

Because they're such beautiful lies.

The fabrication is sweet, encumbered by tenderness despite how it cuts so sharply, skewers so painfully. Murmured promises of _how little this matters_ and how _it means nothing_ are whispered between them, because this is just a game, a beautiful lie to believe in. They dance this sordid dance with dead bodies and death and floors and walls stained with blood as their audience, hips rolling and thrusting and flesh sliding against each other amidst Chinese and Italian silk, smooth and velvety to the touch, but difficult to wash the stains away, especially the not kept promise to forget this ever happened.

They share one more kiss, perhaps sweeter than the rest, before cold laughter, its ludicrous humor, its painful mirth, that quiet desperation breaks them apart, even if only momentarily. The Italian's lips curve in a predatory grin, the clarity of Fon's eyes is ever brightly dark, and their joined bodies are garbed in this perfectly crafted deception.

As the Chinese man wraps a lithe arm, the gesture more loving than it is seductive, around the hitman's neck, the other hand pressed gently against his pulsing heart and as Reborn deepens their kiss, unwittingly more honest than it is mocking, what is desired, most of all, is not the carnal pleasure of this faux intimacy but the comfort of being strangers: even strangers whose fingers are laced together, cradled between their bodies like the most precious thing; strangers whose free verses sound no differently from those chained by rhyme and pattern.

Strangers who believe in such beautiful lies.

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Fin.

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A/N: Having reread this again and again, I conclude that this is just horrible. ;~;

A/N: Reviews would be greatly appreciated. No, really, please review.

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_A Beautiful Lie _by 30 Seconds to Mars  
Lie awake in bed at night  
and think about your life.  
Do you want to be different?  
Try to let go of the truth,  
the battles of your youth  
'cause this is just a game.

[Chorus]:  
It's a beautiful lie.  
It's the perfect denial.  
Such a beautiful lie to believe in  
So beautiful, beautiful lie  
makes me

It's time to forget about the past,  
to wash away what happened last.  
Hide behind an empty face.  
Don't ask too much, just say  
'cause this is just a game.

[Chorus]

(Oh oh.. the end of the world)

Everyone is looking at me,  
I'm running around in circles, baby.  
The quiet desperation's building higher.  
I've got to remember this is just a game.

(So beautiful, beautiful  
It's a beautiful lie.  
So beautiful, beautiful.  
It's a beautiful lie.  
So beautiful, beautiful...)

[Chorus]


End file.
